Nothing has been more actively explored in the history of literature quite as much as the concept of love. Whether it be on stage or the printed page, or delivered by way of images on screen or sounds that come from musical instruments, the elusive idea of romance has been the primary theme for countless artists over the course of history. Love is something we recognize and understand, but yet can never quite describe – and there comes a moment in Emmanuel Mouret’s beautiful The Things We Say, The Things We Do (French: Les Choses qu’on dit, les choses qu’on fait, also commonly referred to be the title Love Affair(s), a much more simple and far less evocative label for this otherwise stunning film), where one of the main characters asks this very question when confronted with the cliched but pertinent idea of love at first sight. Mouret has become something of an expert on the subject, or at least has shown his deep connection with stories that explore the intersections between romance and identity, with films such as Shall We Kiss? and The Art of Love being charming comedies that look at the subject from a variety of perspectives. Telling the story of a visitor to a provincial part of France, and his brother’s wife that is there to welcome him for the duration of his stay, and the various other characters that populate their lives (especially the more romantic portions), the film is a fascinating exploration of love in its various iterations, and it carries the weight of someone who is truly compelled to look at the concepts with a combination of heartfelt humour and genuine interest in the material, which is so much more than can be said for more common representations of these ideas, which Mouret seems to be actively campaigning against for the most part when it comes to this story.

As we’ve established, love is not a concept that is necessarily easily to capture on film, or at least not in a way that encapsulates every aspect of it. Ultimately, any work that claims to be the definitive work on the subject is only setting itself up for failure, since this is far too titanic of a theme to ever be completely covered by any film, regardless of how expansive it may be. The Things We Say, The Things We Do is a film that is best described as a series of vignettes, each one telling a different story related to a web of characters that are interwoven – one may not know the other directly, but we find that there are curious connections that underpin all of them, bringing them together into a vivid tapestry of people from numerous walks of life converging into a beautiful and poetic humanistic landscape, around which the concept of love orbits. Its a deep and profoundly moving voyage into the heart of a few people as they negotiate not only existing relationships in the present moment, but reminisce on those in the past (some of which are viewed very tenderly – not every failed romance necessarily has to be seen as negative), as well as leaving space for future romances. Few films dedicated to celebrating love have been as open about the fact that soulmates are not necessarily a concept that exists in reality, and that the person we are committed to right now may not be the same person in the future (even if this is obviously the ideal), and that change is not something to fear. The fact that Mouret manages to do all of this in The Things We Say, The Things We Do, without being flippant or cynical in any way, is only further proof to his brilliance as a filmmaker, and the wonderful level of detail that underpins this fascinating but beautifully endearing film.

Mouret is clearly an exceptionally competent storyteller that has honed his craft spectacularly well – but without the actors, it’s unlikely that The Things We Say, The Things We Do would have had even an iota of the impact it did. The film required a carefully-assembled cast, not only because each one of these characters is important and integral in their own way, but also due to the fact that so much of the story relies on the interpersonal relationship that occurs when any two of these characters share the screen. It is a communal effort in the purest and straightforward definition – everyone is given something to do, and the director cleverly finds ways to expand on even the most insignificant characters, so much that those we believe are just peripheral end up being some of the most interesting. The film is led by Camelia Jordana and Niels Schneider, whose encounter frames the entire film – they’re relative strangers, drawn together solely by circumstance and the fact that they share an acquaintance. However, as they get to know one another, their pasts are revealed, as told through a series of stories of their previous romances and the relationships that brought them to this particular point in their lives. Vincent Macaigne, Émilie Dequenne and Jenna Thiam are carefully woven into the story, and gradually go from supporting characters in these recollections, to fully-formed characters in their own right, tenderly put together by a director who understands a great romance is not solely defined by the present lovers, but also those that exist in the past, and the ones that have yet to be encountered. The Things We Say, The Things We Do depends entirely on its cast, and every one of them is captivating in their own way, leading to a charming and insightful look into the lives of ordinary people falling in love, and the unexpected circumstances they can have from time to time.

The Things We Say, The Things We Do is a much more sobering work in contrast to the director’s previous forays into exploring love, and it often plays as a melancholy version of a more traditional romantic comedy. This is not a generic, lifeless glimpse into the various affairs of ordinary people in the modern world, but instead functions as a playful but complex deconstruction of love. Part of this entails taking a two-pronged approach to the general concept – firstly, Mouret looks at love as an artistic concept, drawing our attention to some of the more common conventions that tend to surface whenever someone aims to create a work propelled by romance (this is likely the reason behind the bland alternative English-language title of the film, with the only logical explanation being an attempt to convey the sense of simplicity with which many of these films are made), while the second is look at love as something that is not restricted to only two people, but rather that it is something that can be sprawling, having many actively moving parts, and that one doesn’t necessarily have to only be in love with one person at a time – obviously the film does not glamourize or even condone infidelity or refusal towards commitment, but rather constructs its story as a series of moments, some of which are not linear but rather take the form of recollections, showing how love does not play by any discernible rules, contrary to what the more trite romantic comedies that the director was actively trying to subvert may say. There are almost too many interesting conversations being had throughout this film, so much that we start to wonder how Mouret will manage to wrap them up after the paltry two hours we spend with this ensemble of eccentric characters – but with precision and forthright intensity, the director manages to give us the conclusion the story deserves.

Love may be the most easily-understood concept that is frequently challenging to fully encapsulate. We all know what it is (and if we’re lucky, we know how it feels), but yet we’d all struggle to fully describe it in words. Mouret was not seeking out a way to do this throughout The Things We Say, The Things We Do – if anything, he was actively against any attempt to rationalize love as something that can be packaged neatly and delivered in a way that is easily understood. Instead, he’s looking at a concept that is, by definition, impossible to represent on screen in its entirety. This is nothing more than an introductory text, a chance to put a few promising ideas together in a loosely-structured narrative, and then pass it over to the audience, who will consume these ideas and find their own interpretation, which is where the film is most promising. There’s a level of detail to what the director does here that cannot be underestimated – he is creating a fascinating story that leaps between perspectives (so much that it is the rare film without a clear protagonist or point of view, an experimental approach that we don’t often see with romantic films), and curating some compelling ideas that merely start the conversation, rather than offering any definitive conclusion – which is precisely what a film such as this warrants. Beautifully poetic, often deeply funny and meaningful to a fault, The Things We Say, The Things We Do is a triumph of representing love as not something we can describe, but rather experience.